2012 — 9 July: Monday
There being at the moment1 what seems a momentary pause in the rain, we shall shortly be off on a little local loop cunningly chosen to avoid most of the mud and not to overtax the OAP who will be accompanying us sprightly youngsters.
Said OAP actually made me the early morning cuppa he promised but asserts I was snoring, so he took it back downstairs. I must ask Jeeves to have a word with him about his basic butlering technique. Now that he's finished fixing my watch strap. Again.
Early afternoon
Even our reliable local road loop was unpretty muddy in places. Showers in-house will precede a quick trouser-purchase expotition to Soton, in what looks very like an impending shower. Somehow, it doesn't feel remotely like a Monday. Lunch would be a welcome bonus, too.
Back, fed, and unshowered upon. Next some local errands, and a welcome cuppa. It's all 'go'. Finally, there's a chance to read the last-ever issue of "The Word". Issue #114, if anyone's counting. I shall miss the 'free' sampler CDs.
Return to Eden
Big Bro is now watching part two of the "Girl with the dragon tattoo" trilogy (part one was last night's entertainment) and — I believe — intends to fit the third part in later this evening. I also almost sold him on the idea of inspecting the Eden biodomes project. As I mentioned, Christa and I were there in May 2002.
That was the weekend after my latest IBM manager had poked his head round the perimeter of the cubicle farm, done a "Can we talk?" sign, and tentatively put to me what even he freely admitted was a crass question, namely, "Was I willing to allow my name to be placed on a list that might, in due course" (ie about five microseconds later, I gather), "receive an offer of separation from his beloved company?"
OK, I added the last adjective myself. And (unlike my then-new manager) I'd first encountered this particular situation back in ICL in 1980.
As I wrote to my friend Carol in New York at the time:Well if it's not one damned thing it's another. Where was I? Oh yes. The Eden project was/is completely fabulous, though I could have done without the four-plus hours each way in a rather cramped coach seat.
But I have rarely encountered such a concentrated dose of serial management ineptitude in IBM as in the past working week. To cut an unedifying story short, I received a free cup of coffee and an apology from a second line manager (not my second line, by the way, which is also interesting — in a way) yesterday as it was explained to me that (a) I had been sounded out about an offer I should not ever have been made in the first place and (b) even if I had grasped at this chance to flit the coop, IBM would have rejected my acceptance and not given me permission to leave under its terms.
I find you just have to laugh. But from now on, if the lips are moving, and they belong to a manager, I am less inclined than ever to believe what the words say.
To my dismay — and judging by the current web site — the Eden Project has now become simply yet another UK tourist trap. Pity.
Later that day
He's now nursing a single Scotch and immersed in "Monsters" having polished off the Swedish trilogy. Such stamina for an OAP, heh? Meanwhile, I've stuck quite a lot of my music database back together. Though not yet all. (Proof.)